The Beginning of the End

The Beginning of the End: Or is it? Erin Murphy Have you ever went out to eat alone? If so, did you ever notice right after you tell the host “Just one,” and you’re led to a specific section of the restaurant (which is most likely an area designated for new members of the waitstaff due to their lack of experience and incapability of handling large parties) what happens next? Most often than not, the host will remove the other place setting and silverware from the table. They’ll perform this action violently almost, and it’s not because they’re angry. It’s because they’re focusing on advertising the current restaurant specials. They’re focusing on delivering the dialogue correctly, just the way their manager instructed, and they are completely unaware that even the right words still make them sound robotic. So they rip the other place mat away, attempting to maintain their integrity as a hard worker while conserving place mats and silverware, and they fail to notice your reaction. I remember one time specifically, I was on my way home from a coworkers house in Haledon, New Jersey. Working odd restaurant hours myself, I used to forget necessities of living like eating on a regular basis. It was 3 A.M as I pulled out of my work friend’s neighborhood and I realized I was starving. Well fuck, I can’t go home. There’s nothing but UTZ chips and refrigerator cereal at my house. For those of you who don’t know me, my Father […]

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Passing out Flyers

Passing out Flyers Downtown on a Saturday Erin M. Murphy On the night I visited 11 Walton Street for the first time (the same night I agreed to rent a $400 tiny room in a ghetto neighborhood), the dog behind his fence and Michael Tree weren’t the only living beings I met when I arrived. Steven was also here, and I learned later his father is the one who actually owns the Walton house. Steven stood there on the back porch in darkness with his long black hair and checkered pajama pants. Even with the lack of lighting (which is more eerie now looking back than I remember it feeling then—considering I was standing with two strangers…in a junkyard…in the ghetto…) I could still make out traces of mysterious hair attached to his pants. They were thick, white, animal-like hairs just dangling there against the patches. As far as stereotypes go, Steven looked like a stoner. Back then I wasn’t aware that most people here in Asheville rarely fall under stereotypical categories regardless of their appearances. They’re all different from what one might initially suspect, yet they’re all the same too. Despite these facts, I was right. Steven is most definitely a stoner. “Hey, if you’re not doing anything tomorrow and would like to hand out flyers for me Downtown, I’ll get you a free ticket to my show tomorrow night.” Steven told me. Being that he just witnessed me agree to rent a random room after only three minutes […]

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My Cousin’s Wedding

My Cousin’s Wedding Erin M. Murphy I arrived at Cocoa Beach around 5:30 A.M and the sun was just about to rise. Sitting there on the beach, watching the birth of a new day set me into a trance. I thought about how many people, even me, often fail to appreciate the beauty of this world we inhabit. I thought about photography and how it might be the hardest form of art known to man. It’s nearly impossible to recreate something as beautiful as an ocean’s dawn through the snap of a picture. It would take an extremely talented photographer to recreate even a fraction of the feelings I felt sitting there in the sand that morning. Watching the clouds trail across the horizon in thick puffs of patterns shaped like people, it reminded me of “heaven”. It made me think of my friend who passed away. I imagined him up there amongst the puffy pattern people and I fixed my eyes on a cloud that could have resembled my old friend if I squinted my vision hard enough. I wonder if that’s how it works. I wonder if the ones taken away from us spend the early morning hours sitting on the horizon waiting to greet the sun. Then when it finally rises, they float upward away from the golden light and yield to its every need. Maybe the temporary shade of a summer day on the beach is merely the sun taking a lunch break and the clouds […]

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